


Golden

by Max72



Category: Agents of SHIELD - Fandom, Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), marvels agents of Shield
Genre: Already blown out of the water by the latest ep, Angst up to the hills!, F/M, I Don't Know Where This Is Going, Love Triangle, Mutual Pining, Philinda - Freeform, Season 3, first time writing this ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-25 10:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4956721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Max72/pseuds/Max72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>May has come back but tension is still high for more than one reason. We hurt the ones we love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part one

**Author's Note:**

> My first time with this ship. No beta so mistakes are probably a plenty!

“You came back,” the surprise evident in his voice as he looked in wonder at the now open doorway and the figure in black framing it.

“You didn’t think I would,” she sounded equally surprised, but couldn't help adding a little viciously, “this time.”

As soon as the words left her mouth she regretted them, the holiday was supposed to pour water on those feelings. So much for that. As she looks at him, she can see the words have hit, as he ducked his head. She shouldn’t really be so astonished that he doubted her return.

Not from the man that stands before anyway.

This was not the man that had barely batted an eye when she had asked for time off, still hyped from the fight, avoiding the changes in himself, Director Coulson, in all his single mindedness. When he looked up again, he looked so much like that lost boy she had met so long ago at the academy.The two sides of him so strikingly different. He could swap in and out of each so fast. Unlike herself, who had worn her armour for so long.

“I wasn’t sure,” he admitted, “you and, ” he swallowed, the small gesture of breaking up his words, especially hesitating over the name, nearly forces an ‘oh’ out of Melinda in realisation. Instead, she just watched, eyes a little wider than usual as he finished with, “Andrew,” waving his right hand around as if it filled in for words he didn’t want to speak out loud.

Melinda sighed, she couldn’t leave him hanging, even though there’s a little gem of anger that they had skirted round each other for so long and now that Andrew was back on the scene he was looking at her like a hurt puppy.

“We’re still working on it.” His fingers tapped soundlessly on the desk he was leaning against, he murmured, “I see,” before standing and making his way behind the desk and sitting down, taking up the pen uneasily in his grip. She winced before walking away, continuing there long running personal denial, it burned like silence.

 


	2. Part Two

“Have you made a decision about your hand?” She enquired, as she once again found herself lingering in his doorway, drawn as if a bee to honey.

“I was thinking of growing a new one,” his witty remark came sharply back without any of the humour attached. He was sitting behind his big foreboding desk, papers scattered across it. It was a wonder his back didn’t give him more problems the amount of time he spent bent over. 

“Funny,” she answered, not meaning it in the slightest.

“Not so much,” he grimaced, “nothing feels right.” He glanced up for the first time. He looked tired and overworked. It seemed to be a permanent look. She tried to think of the last time she had seen him laugh, nothing came to mind.

She’d been back for several days, in that time she had been busy getting back into her routine. On the rare moments he dragged himself out of his office, he had made no effort to visit her. He seemed only to visit the various projects that were now housed within the ever expanding base. It seemed that his ever growing isolation to the directorship hadn’t changed with his dress code. 

The core group that had started out together, rushed around with their own assignments, collecting new people to work with. As the base grew in personnel, fewer and fewer people noticed the figure that strode down the halls until he stood before them, bringing with him demands and a large proportion of disappointments. 

Every inch the image of his predecessor.

She had paused too long, as his eyes drifted back to the desktop and he muttered, “I believe the tech lab have something else in mind.“

She smiled, "And you haven’t been over their plans with a fine tooth comb, stamping your own ideas and designs on them?”

He shrugged his shoulders dully as he scribbled something into the margin of whatever he was reading, “They know what they are doing.”

She frowned, ”Phil?” 

When he didn’t respond she quietly stepped further into the room, shutting the door behind her. His eyes glanced up and he sighed at the action. 

“What do you want May?”  
“I want you to care,” she retorted somewhat angrily.   
He dropped his pen, his eyes flashing up grimly, the lines on his face straight and sharp in his annoyance.

“Fine, I asked for the whole Swiss Army knife package, corkscrew and can opener included, happy now,” he fired back.

“Hardly, sarcastic deflection, is a cheap retort.”

“Fuck you,” he hissed as he stood.

She smiled bitterly. “You’re even starting to sound like him now.”

He stared at her, the recognition of her words clearly in his eyes, “Is that so bad. Nick was damned good at his job.”

“Yes, yes he was,” she conceded, ”but consider how that ended. All because he’d lost touch with those around him. You’re starting to become so bogged down in the mechanics that you forgotten about what makes it work.“

"I don’t have time for this,” he snapped, even as he made his way over to the window to stare out at nothing.

“You need to make time then, Director.” She watched as his jaw pulsed in irritation.

She tried another tack and said lightly, “Phil,” she made her way over to him. He stared at her for a few moments before glancing away again. “Don’t disengage with those around you.”

He swallow but didn’t look back at her, his hand rigidly holding onto the frame. “I’m not,” his voice wavered brokenly.  
Melinda stared at him, did he feel that everyone had left him? Maybe… Everyone was so focus right now. But surely he knew that he was the one holding back, protecting himself.

May realised in that moment, how right Fury had been when he’d first assigned the bus to Coulson. Creating a small team around him, bringing him back from the cold.

She remembered wistfully those first few months as they had all gelled around him, looked up to him, needed him, even through the violence and let downs that had ensued. He’d revelled in it. 

Then Fury had just as cruelly snatched it away. Heaping a dying organisation that he himself couldn’t let go of, but couldn’t go forward with either, onto Phil’s broad shoulders. All because Nick knew he wouldn’t/couldn’t say no, that drive he’d carried since a boy, surrounded by posters on his bedroom walls of his beloved Steve Rogers and his daring deeds. He’d carried a image with him of his role model diving on a grenade all his life, so far it had cost that comic loving boy dear, a spear through his chest and now a missing hand, were only the start. 

She didn’t know whether to damn Nick Fury, or Maria Hill. For it surely should have been her that took the role but she’d had shown too much sense. Knew it would suck the life from her, just as it was the man before her. Perhaps it should be Phil or even herself that should be damned because she had, after all, stood by and watched as Fury had flattered the hell out of Coulson and then dumped his life on him.

She stepped up to him, her hand cupped his cheek, but even as he leaned minutely into it, his voice cracked, “Please don’t.”

She stared up into his vulnerable face, the look achingly similar to one that she’d witnessed before, it had nearly ripped her heart out then, when he’d stood in his office back on the bus and opened his shirt to expose his scar to her. 

She hated this, whispering guiltly, because she had too, it would be too easy to step closer, press herself into him, but it wasn’t fair to any of them. 

“I’m not over him.”

“I know,” his lips moved too much for such short words, she felt the pull of his jaw across her fingers, heard the rasp of stubble as it brushed across her skin.

“I still love him.”

It only dawned on her how close they had moved together when she felt him nod, only a mere fraction, but his chin tipping gently on the crown of her head, before he pulled back just enough to look at her, perhaps having the same thoughts.

She stared at the face she knew so well, the lip she ached to touch, her voice stuttered, “I… love you too.” 

A small sad smile pulled across his face fleetingly and his head dipped. “I know that too.” He actually stepped into her forcing her fingers from his face, they dropped uselessly to her side, her whole body waiting. It was his hand cupping her face this time and he dipped his head to ghost his lips across her forehead, “You should go.”

May shook her head in denial, she was petrified by the thought that he wasn’t talking of only this room, here and now but of the future.

“Please,” his breath whispered across her skin, even as his thumb ran circles across the fine hair at the edge of her jaw sending goose bumps up her spine. She shook her head again.

“Please,” he repeated almost desperately, the words warm as they fluttered across the strands of hair sitting across her head. 

She pulled away with a heavy puff of air, unable to look at him as she walked away, tears burning her eyes. She stopped as she reached the door pulling it open and glancing back. 

He stood as he often did, at the window, his forearm perched across the window frame, body leaning slightly into it, once again a pillar of loneliness. 

“I won’t leave you.” 

“You should,” he glanced at her as he said the words sadly.

She nodded her head at the words she knew were wise, nothing good was ever likely to come from this, she knew that, he knew that but… She felt drawn like magnet to metal, her voice worded her heart, “I can’t.” 

She shut the door.


	3. Part 3

Melinda?”

She looked up, in surprise as her name was called. She found herself shutting the door with more care than was strictly necessary, it probably looked odd but she was having to force herself not to re-enter, and step into, what would most likely pan out into a maelstrom of pain for some, even if her body was thrumming with the possibility of the delights.

She finished with the door taking much longer than necessary, giving herself time, before turning to face the caller. She knew who it was, but being presented with him immediately filled her with guilt at her previous thoughts.

“Andrew. What are you doing here?” It sounded stilted and a silly thing to say, even to her own ears. She froze her face to stop it wincing.

“Uh,” he held up a pile of folders, “I need to schedule a meeting with the Director, to go through these,” he smiled, it faltered a bit when she gave no sign of a return, “is he in?”

Her head half turned as if she could see through the closed door.

“Yes.”

Andrew frowned, “Is everything alright? Have you two been arguing again?”

his voice sounded irritatingly amused to her ears. May looked up, “What? No!”

He obviously sensed her mood and a fragile smile flirted across his face as he hesitantly continued, “Okay, so… I should,” he held the folders up again when she made no effort to move away from the door.

“He’s…” Her eyes flicked to the door before seriously  staring at the man opposite for the first time, “I’m concerned.”

“Concerned?” Andrew frowned.

“Yes… Worried, he doesn’t, he’s not…” She sighed at her inability or perhaps it was reluctance to put her thoughts into words. “Depressed? What do you think?”

“You know I can’t comment.” He looked away from her, as if hiding something.

“I’m not asking for your professional opinion,” she snapped back in frustration, “I’m asking you as a friend.”

His face had lost any humour that he had started the conversation with. “I’m not his friend, Melinda. He’s my boss or,” he shrugged his shoulders, “my client at the least.”

She moved quickly to brushing past him in annoyance, “Fine, I’m sorry I mentioned it, I’ll make sure I don’t discuss any of the personnel on the base with you!”

He made a grab for her arm, wisely letting go as the tension rocketed through her body. His voice taking on a edge, as he questioned, “Melinda, what exactly is going on here?”

“I don’t know Drew, why don’t you tell me, you’re the therapist,” she spat back.

“Well let’s see,” his voice starting to rise, “He’s,” pointing to the closed doorway, “suddenly your best friend again, even though you couldn’t stand to even be in the same room as him before you went away.”

“I’m over with that,” she quickly retorted, and yes, she realised, she felt ready to move on and leave the guilt at her own betrayal and the burning rage at his, behind. She cared too much to carry it round with her like a sack of rocks on her shoulders. She wasted too much of her life going down that road and she wasn’t making the same mistakes again.

“No…” The man’s voice caught between angry and resigned as he muttered bitterly, “You’ll never quite be over him, will you Melinda?” He said staring her straight in the eye sadly.

She could do little but stare back. Hoping the fear of his words, that rang so true, weren’t exposed in her glaze. Still when the silence stretched and she could find no denial, she resorted to action, and fled down the corridor and away from him. Incriminating herself and probably sealing their fate.


	4. Part four

“Doctor Garner?” The tone was unmistakably cool as Coulson made his way back to his desk. 

“Director,” Andrew said formally picking up the mood, as he stepped fully into the office. “I need to schedule a time to go through the latests assessments."

“I see,” Coulson flicked through a large diary that adorned the desk. “I have next Thursday free?”

Andrew sighed, “I was hoping for it to be sooner than that.”

Coulson picked up his pen and started work as he more or less dismissed the man in front of him, “I have nothing before then, I'm sorry. It's a very busy time. I’m sure you understand.”

“Is there any point to me being here, doing this, if you’re not prepared to take it seriously.” 

The bland replies continued, “Doctor Garner, I appreciate…”

“Don’t give me that," Andrew retorted angrily, watching as he finally got some response and Coulson's head flicked up in surprise. Andrew was well aware that the conversation out in the hall was fuelling most of his animosity towards the man in front of him but he couldn't help it.

It felt like this man was always there, somehow between Melinda and him.

It had been the same when they had been married, like a shadow in the background, Coulson had always taken up a large part of Melinda. Up until now he had always just accepted it, after all, he had been on the scene, as it were, before Mel and him had even met. Maybe it was a sign of the sandy ground he felt he was on with his ex, but he had to admit to being worried, there was... He didn't know, a spark? Something felt different, Melinda was concerned with Coulson's state of mind, he was concerned with the very real fear he might lose her, so soon after reconnecting. For sure, one way or another it would because of Coulson.

She was vulnerable, hells teeth, he'd never say that to her, but the emotional baggage she had been carrying round with her, was, not gone, but he felt it was true to say, that the revelling of it had taken the pressure somehow off the pot. 

After leaving her comfortable, enclosed compartment with its files of paperwork behind to work with Coulson again, even Andrew would admit that when he'd met her again she had changed, she was comfortable in her skin once more. Maybe not the woman he married, she was long gone, she was still closed off but the confidence was back. He loved to see it but... 

This wasn't the life he wanted to live. 

This wasn't the life he wanted for the both of them. 

He'd hoped the little holiday away would have cemented Melinda's desire to be free of S.H.I.E.L.D and Coulson combined, but no, here they were again. Around and around they went, Coulson always at the centre.

Andrew assessed the man across the room, thinking back to what he's ex-wife had said to him out in the hallway. He hated to admit, but his rival was every bit and probably more vulnerable than Mel even was right now. Trauma seemed to sit permanently on his shoulder.. 

There was no doubt that Coulson had changed. As much as Mel had in some ways, she, recently, for the better. Whereas he seemed to have gone the other way. They had oddly reversed roles, just as she had opened up a little, he was now far more closed off than Andrew ever remembered.

He thought of those mornings when they were all much younger and Phil would breeze into their kitchen to pick Melinda up for work, like some kind of overeager puppy. It had been shockingly irritating first thing in the morning. 

Glimpses of that inner child were still there. Those permanently based here probably got to see fairly often, his little inner sanctum of agents at least, but that easy manner he had always projected so well was gone. The characteristic that had defined him in the early days, caught Nick Fury's eye early on. If you weren't in the know, you would have found him utterly mild mannered, charming and non threatening. 

He wasn't of course, well, to be fair he could still charm just about anyone with that boyish smile, he'd seen it happen many a time but that young man was a lifetime away from the Director Coulson in front of him, he oozed danger and darkness. 

Andrew's inner caveman wanted to sling Melinda over his shoulder, and carry her kicking and screaming far, far away from him. Reality was, it was much more likely to be her tossing him over her shoulder, if push came to shove and she had to choose between Coulson and himself to save? That nagging voice in the back of his head whispered it might not be him.

The Director sighed wearily and stood, pushing back the chair with his legs, one hand (his only actual hand) still rested along the table top.

He watched with a professional eye the way Coulson, unconsciously and automatically reached up with his left to smooth his tie, then looked down as if surprised, whether by the lack of flesh and blood or the absence of a tie it wasn't clear. A flicker of something that Andrew couldn't quite make out from the angle he was standing and Coulson's dropped head, passed across the man's face. The hand still resting on the desk moved and as if needing some kind of tactile satisfaction pulled at the cuff on his other arm.

Seemingly content that some part of his clothing was now in place and crease free, he moved away from the desk. A small smile tugging at his lips. It was a smile, Andrew recognised, it was used to put people at ease. That charm effect again. He was also well aware, that on several occasions it was followed by a swift kick to the ribs, or a verbal putdown of epic proportions. Andrew wouldn't be fool by it.

The casually dressed man, still attired in designer from head to tail, you couldn't call it dress down Friday, rounded the last corner of the desk, the fingers of his right hand trailing across the top of the mass of files that were orderly stacked in every available space.

"Doctor Garner," he pronounced it formally as he came to a stop in front of him, Andrew found himself straightening, waiting for some type of blow, "I think it would be a good idea, if from now on you take your reports and recommendations to May. She can then bring anything that needs my attention to our weekly briefing."

"I see, why?" Andrew questioned, surprised and strangely disappointed.

"Well, I'm struggling for time, as you can see and I don't want to miss..."

"I'd appreciate the truth." Andrew retorted sharply. "Is this to do with my wife? She left..."

"Ex." Coulson interrupted.

Andrew's eyes narrowed, "Ex wife... yes..." He paused, "never the less, she left here just now and she was..."

"It has nothing to do with May," the answer came back coldly.

"Then what, you don't like it when I don't agree with you, is that it."

Coulson's temper snapped, eyes blazed, his mouth working overtime as he brutally rehashed Andrew's own words back at him, "No, I think it's more to do with me being needless risky and bent on revenge." 

 

Andrew took a small step backwards as if hit by an imaginary fist. He blinked a few times and then nodded slowly, "I see."

"Do you have any idea at all what Nick Fury would have done to you if you had undermined him like that."

Still angry Andrew said honestly, "If Fury was still running S.H.I.E.L.D I wouldn't be here." 

Coulson just stared at him. 

Andrew breathed out heavily, calming himself, "you're right, I apologies, it was unprofessional of me to discuss other agents and you with Daisy. It won't happen again."

Coulson nodded and turned away effectively dismissing Garner. 

Andrew made his way to the door, his hand on the handle as Coulsons voice rang out, "S.H.I.E.L.D is here for one purpose, it may not always be pretty, sacrifices," he paused, "have to be made along the way but the principle is sound. Protection."

Andrew turned his attention back to the Director. 

"You should remember that, Andrew. The needs of the many don't always outweigh the needs of the few."

Andrew smiled sadly, as he caught a glimpse of the man Coulson used to be, "How long have you waited to drop that line into conversation? Besides, as I remember you have it round the wrong way."

Coulson managed to look offended, "No I don't, I'm very obviously Jim Kirk here, not Spock."

"That's pretty much what I said to Daisy."

Coulson smiled brightly for the first time since Andrew had walked in, "Touché, nicely played. Now get out of my office before I change into Nick Fury."

Somehow, after all that Andrew still walked out with a smile upon his face. Damn the man.


	5. Golden part five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a light and fluffy chapter but...

"May?" He looked back at her as she stood framed in his door dressed in her usual black.

"Andrew's not very happy with you," she marched herself into his office, sounding cross. She continued, "do you have any idea how much work I had to put into persuading him to even take the position in the first place?"

"Not just Andrew then," he muttered under his breath, sounding weary. He spoke up as he said, "and yes I do know. I'm sorry, he's welcome to join the long cue of people pissed with me," he finished, as he stared up at the large screen in his office, flicking a half smile in her direction.

She sighed as she reached his side, "Seriously, I don't think it's a good idea for us to work together."

Coulson raised his brow. "We've all been working together for months, May, this is no different."

"Why me? I have enough to do without you forcing this on me as well."

"I'm not forcing it on you," this time he sounded exasperated, "I thought you'd like to work with Andrew. Plus I trust you to do the job. You have great judgement, " he finished a with a smile.

"Don't butter me up, Coulson."

He laughed.

She stared in wonder at the sound, she'd missed it. She forced her face back to the screen when she found herself staring too long at the side of his jaw.

"Daisy still not talking to you?"

Phil looked resigned, "I can't really blame her, but..." he shrugged his shoulders.

"Someone has to make the hard calls, Phil. It's something she going to have to learn and experience if she is ever going to lead one day. Not all choices come with happy endings, butterflies and fluffy white clouds. She'll have to deal."

Coulson's jaw tensed but he nodded.

"You know what you need?" She said out of the blue.

"No," he smiled at her playful tone.

"A day off."

"What?" He spluttered in surprised.

''You know," she teased, "one of those things that normal working people do. Not go into the office for the day. Do something else, just for the sake of it. Even I've been known to take a holiday."

He frowned, "and do what?"

"I don't know," she picked at a fingernail, "Go see a movie, or visit a museum?"

He stared at her for a moment. He's face lightened up as he casually said, "Okay."

Melinda's face frowned, as if she hadn't expected to win so easily. She looked across at him again, "Okay?"

"Yes, sure, I'll take a day off, if it will make you happy." He stared down at her as her eyes held his, keeping her silence. His face pulled into the familiar half smile, he tried again, "if it will satisfy you?" He paused for reaction and when none came he sighed and conceded, "okay, if it will help me relax."

"Better," she smirked, "what will you do?"

''Fish and chips."

She frowned, "Excuse me?"

''Fish and chips. That's what I fancy doing." He said nonchalantly, "In London, of course. You'll take me, won't you?" He looked up at her hopefully with a boyish grin.

"No, Phil. I'm not taking you to London for fish and chips?" She scoffed in disbelief.

"Ohhh, Melinda, I need you... I can't drive the jet and nobody else can be spared, just for me to take a jolly."

"And I can?" she sent him an annoyed glare. "besides, you pilot a jet not drive."

"My point exactly, I can't do it. Come on, May. It was your idea after all," he teased, "You remember..."

"No!" she jumped in quick.

"That mission we had in England for three weeks," he continued ignoring her angry retort. "We ate fish and chips every night, bar one."

"Only because the night we had the curry, I had to spend the rest of the evening holding your hair out of the toilet bowl as you spewed, Coulson."

"See it was fun, we should do it again," he grinned as he caught a little smirk on her face before she became serious.

"We can't you know that."

"What's stopping us," he pushed knowing the answer.

"We both can't be away..." She made an excuse.

"'We're both away at the same time loads."

May sighed at his antic's, he was always difficult to control in one of these moods, not that she wasn't delighted to see it, but reality bit, "Andrew..."

She startled as a pot of pens flew off the side table, Coulson's artificial hand finishing with a flourish as if it had to skid it to a halt, surprised at its speed and power. 

''Phil!"

"Damn." He looked down at the pens and paper clips littering the floor, breathing heavy, "What we can't even be friends now?" he growled. "Is that what we have come too now? Inappropriate I suppose?"

"Phil," she sighed, "it's not..." 

He'd bent down away from her and picking up the things that now littered the floor. His voice when it came was muffled from the angle, any trace of anger gone as he replied dully, " it's fine don't worry about it, I'll find something else to do."

She pursed her lips at the turn of events, irritated that he had lead them down this way but more annoyed that he was right. There friendship was so finely balanced now, it scared her. She couldn't bare the idea of losing him but having him in her life was so complicated and hard.

"Look, why don't we go out as a group? Fitz and Simmons could seriously do with a break. Daisy and you could try and reconnect a little. Bobbi would keep on top of thing here, I'm sure," she suggested. 

"Sure," he answered without any of the enthusiasm he'd previously shown. He looked up at her from the floor, "can you arrange it with the others? Don't think Skye would agree if I put it to her right now."

She nodded her head but corrected with, "Daisy."

He continued with his retrieval task, "Whatever," he mumbled.

She walked to the door halting as he turned from his kneeling position and asserted, "you should ask Andrew along."

She didn't answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments, it seriously gets me writing quicker, hence the quick update!


	6. Part Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought long and hard about this and then decided just to ignore the end of the last episode! The rest of it was fair game as I think it works quite well with the tension and vibe of the whole fic.

"Considering this was, according to May... who has come back in a slightly odd mood, don't you think?" Daisy said, pinching a chip from his stash before ramming it into her mouth and sitting down beside him on the low wall. The sea gently lapping up the beach behind them. The S.H.I.E.L.D visitors scattered within their own little personal clicks. She didn't pausing to finish chewing, as she mumbled round the chip, seemingly uninterested in his opinion to her question, "all your idea, you don't look exactly thrilled to be here, AC."

"I prefer to go by DC now, its a little thing but... " he smirked at the Daisy, trying hard to kick start himself out of the flunk he was in. He watched her surprised face, at his words, before she broke out into a smile.

"Nice!" she chuckled, as she held her hand up for a knuckle thump which he partook in smiling. If nothing else he was glad that Daisy and him had gone back to normal. She bumped shoulders with him, "Come on, what's with the long face, this is awesome. Brighton is great."

"Hm, yes, only actually been here once before." He commented looking around at the half crowded beach, the wind was up so although warm the beach wasn't at it busiest. "I'd planned to go to London, when I'd initially had the idea," He explained, looking up through his brow at Melinda and Andrew as they laughed over their shared food, "there's a place I used to go, but... " He sighed, "too many memories around that idea I guess," he turned back to Daisy, noticing how she was nodding sadly. He rooted round in his half eaten chips, not wishing to bring her down too, he smiled, and said not for the first time that day, "I'm still disappointed they don't come in newspaper any more," pushing at the tray with his little wooden fork in dismay. 

It had the right effect when she rolled her eyes in jest, and looped her arm through his elbow before remarking with interest, "Yeah, so I asked about that in the shop and they said its been years since that happened. When were you last here?"

"Oh, back in the early nineties I guess, we..." He glanced across at May before turning his attention back to the girl sitting next to him. "I," he corrected quickly, "was on a mission basically running surveillance on a dirty diplomat, it was all pretty basic boring junior agent stuff. First night I was here I had my first taste of English fish and Chips. It was heaven!"

She laughed, "Amen to that," before sneaking another chip from his tray before he managed to slap her hand away. 

"The second night I went more exotic and had a curry." He smiled wistfully. "I spent the the next 24 hours regretting that decision, when it kept coming back to visit. Needless to stay I frequented the facilities more than the actual stake out that day, my partner was not amused." He looked down at his chips with a smile, "she insisted we stuck to plain and simple from then on."

"She?"

Coulson opened his mouth and then shut it, annoyed with himself for slipping again but they were poignant memories, and May crowded his mind from every vantage point.

"Just the other agent on assignment with me, " he eventually answered, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

Daisy squeaked, "Coulson, you dog you were totally having a thing with your," she speech marked, "other agent, weren't you?"

''No." His eyes drawn again to the couple by the railing. He tried to sound stern as he retorted, "I thought we'd had this conversation about inappropriate...'' But as he turned back to the young woman next to him, laughter seemed to bubble out of her every pore, as she looked over at the other agents on the trip. He back tracked desperately, "Daisy, no, that wasn't..."

"Oh, it sooo was, I can tell by the look in your eyes," she giggled. "Hey guys, Mr Director was doing the dirty with his partner last time he was here on assignment, back in the day," she announced merrily to the group. They looked mostly embarrassed by the announcement, as Daisy laughed. He pulled his arm away from hers. She stood up and bounced over to Fitz and Simmons chuckling.

"No that's not..." He tried again, glanced over to May and Andrew, his heart plummeting as they stared back angrily at him. Of course, Andrew would know all about this trip and the past behind it. He watched as May's lips tighten further. 

He hated it when she did that, especially if it was directed at him, it usually meant she wanted to grind his balls into dust. Which didn't sound half so amusing these days when he thought of his crumbling hand sitting in the lab back at base. Come to think of it, he actually couldn't remember seeing it on his last few visits, maybe they had noticed how fixated he was on it every time he visited. Perhaps one of the tech's had decided it would make a good keep sake. He found the idea macabrely amusing that in years to come his hand might turn up on some antiques show or be part of a collection, just like his own Cap shrine, after all, it had its own glass dome already. 

He refocused, "Skye," he barked out furiously, as she continued having fun at his expense, unaware of the havoc she was actually causing, the tone sounded hard across his tongue as it slipped out in frustration.

She looked round in surprise. "Okay, okay, no need to be quite so grumpy, I thought this trip was  
about having fun."

"Yes, well I don't seem to be enjoying it much myself," he replied bitterly and walked away from the group at a fast pace, slinging the last of his chips in the garbage as he walked by one of the many receptacles lining the sea wall. He changed direction a little way from them and turned onto the pier, running his hand along the railings as he walked. He slowed his speed as the anger drained from him, stopping halfway down and sat on one of the vacant benches, staring out to sea. A few seagulls bobbed along the waves, occasionally crying out noisily, at least without food they didn't bother to try and mug him. He breathed in the salty air trying to find a reason why he'd agreed to this.

Torture came to mind. 

It was awfully like a punishment watching May with Andrew, especially as they seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves...well they had been a least. 

Of course, from there stemmed the root of all his misery. He had no one else to blame, he'd told her to invite him. Had he been testing himself or her when he'd said it, he wondered. He'd obviously broken first, going off in a huff like a child, to sit here like the grumpy old man he was becoming. Andrew could probably analyse it for him, compartmentalised and neatly wrapped in his own continued trend to try and destroy himself, no doubt. 

"I think I should go." 

The voice startled him, it shouldn't have he'd had a lifetime of training after all. He had a sudden vision of Barton laughing at him, to see the famous Agent Coulson, jumping with fright. If he were honest he missed them, life seemed so much simpler then. Which was ridiculous when you consider he was running Clint and Natasha, and they could fine trouble in almost anything but somehow, he'd felt younger more alive. He chuckled out loud at that thought because he was younger and definitely more alive!

"Phil?"

He realised he shouldn't be laughing after what she'd said and tried to explain, ''Sorry, I was thinking about Barton." As if that answered the laughter.

It obviously did, as she rounded the bench and sat down beside him, after all she'd spent more than a fair share of time with his old team. "I can see why that would cause such mirth."

He turned a wide grin on his face, his eyes alive again. It faded fast when he saw she wasn't in the slightest bit amused.

He sobered and answered her first statement, "We haven't been here long, you shouldn't go yet." He couldn't help the way his voice sounded so unsure, "I'm sorry about Skye... Daisy, I didn't say anything to her." He continued, to fill the silences, like he always had throughout their lives, "unless you and Andrew wanted to get away spend some time together... alone?"he cringed at the unnecessary clarification. He tried for a smile and offered as sincerely as he could muster, "I can," he waved his hand backwards towards the direction they had escaped from, "go back and... babysit."

She continued to just stare out to sea. Her voice when it finally came was softer than he expected, "I wasn't talking about today."

He swallowed, looking at her profile intently, he'd always envied her ability to keep her emotions so in check. He knew it had no bearing on what was happening inside, more so with her than most he suspected but she could maintain that visage so well. Oh, he could blank his face off, the stoic agent look was no problem, ask Barton, but when he became highly emotional his eyes gave him away, like pools of turbulent water, his mother had once told him. Fury had always called it the puppy dog look. He'd also pointed out he should use it to his advantage. Back when they were young he'd told him that girls would love it, and it would get him all sorts of touching privileges. The thing is, back when they were young he still only had eyes for this woman, but they'd seemed to have so much time. He'd missed his chance the first time when she'd met Andrew, he'd smiled though the engagement announcement and spent the whole wedding reception intricately planning out the mission to Budapest in his head, that had turned into a shit storm, he tried unsuccessfully not to blame himself for that too! Then low and behold he'd missed it again, how unlucky could a guy get? Trouble was it had nothing to do with luck and everything to do with fear. Fear on so many levels.

He knew damned well Bambi had nothing on him now in the eye department. 

"No!" 

He watched as her jaw tightened. He sighed and dropped his head, he was a selfish son of a bitch sometimes. "I mean..." he stuttered, "if you need to go for yourself then... I," he reached out slowly and covered her hand resting against her own thigh, not sure how she would react. "But if you think your doing for me, then no, I don't want you to go, please Melinda. I know I've said..."

She moved her hand, he could feel the muscles tense underneath his own flesh, he watched expected her to pull away but she turned it and threaded her fingers though his.

He continued, lifting his head once again staring at the profile that meant so much to him. "I know its self centred of me to want you to stay and of course you have Andr..."

"Shut up, Phil?" She let out a sigh at his run away mouth.

''Okay," he took it as forbidden ground to discuss Andrew and went off at another angle, desperately trying to find the least painful angle, "You could...I can send you into a new base I always need good people running these places, you wouldn't have to deal with me, the occasional video call would be nice but..." He squeezed her hand, "I understand you have to think about your own happiness, your future, Melinda. It's important to me as well, that you're happy, you have to believe that." He swallowed, "l'm not good for..."

She turned suddenly and he found himself briefly staring her straight in the eye before she brought her lips crashing into his. He heard a whimper and it took far longer than it should to work out the sound escaped his own lips. Her hands framed his face as she finally withdrew her lips. His eyes searching her's for answers. She pulled back enough just to repeat, "Shut up, Phil," again.

"Melinda," a voice from behind them snapped. 

Jerking him from dream to nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading.


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